


Get Well Soon

by felixies



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 02:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felixies/pseuds/felixies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You never suspected the first person to come to your rescue is the one who you thought cared the least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Well Soon

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sick with the cold at the moment and was in the mood to do a vignette of some sort. I also made some reference to Doctor Who and Tolkien. Hope you like it!

The blaring alarm wakes you up in a daze, feeling cold sweat on your neck and face. Your focus is blurry as your hand gropes for the off switch. Shapes and colors fill your vision. You get up, but quickly lose balance, falling to the floor. Luckily the carpet cushioned your fall. Your breathing is shallow and your nose is congested. Your ears could only hear soft steps. You can feel yourself being rolled over and a hand placed on your forehead. The last image you see before passing out is a bleary image of Sherlock tapping the side of your face, his mouth moving, but unable to hear the words, as if trying to keep you awake.

Cold and wet. You wake up again, tucked in bed with two pillows under you. You never do that. You slowly reach to your forehead and pick up the bag of half-melted ice, its water dripping onto your face. You toss it away and shed the blanket off, finding yourself wearing an otter shirt and red pants. You definitely know you weren't wearing this earlier today. Just then, the door opens and you find John walking in and settling on the side of your bed.

"You had quite a fall. Don't freak out if you find a little bump on your head. Just a bit of swelling. It'll go down if you keep a pack of ice on it. Now for what is more important. Open your mouth." He sticks a thermometer in your mouth and starts checking your pulse. "When did you start feeling ill?" he asks.

"Last night I guess. I kept sneezing and thought it was just allergies," you mumble through the thermometer. You find yourself surprised at how much gravel is in your voice. He checks your temperature and with a tut he pushes you back on the pillows. "You have a cold. You stay in bed and don't do anything extraneous for the next few days. I'll bring you some medicine to take and I'll see to it that Sherlock waits on you." You can't help but laugh at the thought, but even that much causes you to cough up a storm. He places a reassuring hand on your shoulder and leaves the room.

As soon as John leaves, Sherlock enters with a tray. He sets it down across your lap as you sit up. You marvel at how much drink and food he placed on there. Most of the tray is filled with the teapot and several types of tea leaves. The other part is filled with a bowl of soup, crackers, a glass of orange juice, and bread. "I don't know what you would like, so I improvised," he admits. There is even a small vase with a single pink carnation flower on the tray. 

"I'll take the tea thanks," you whisper, afraid of how much your voice will crack from speaking anymore. He starts pouring the tea for you as you bring up from earlier, "I wasn't wearing this outfit when I woke up."

"Sorry?"

"The t-shirt of the otter and red underwear. I was wearing a dalek shirt and green sweats when I went to bed last night."

"You were practically drenched in your own sweat when I found you. I knew that clean clothes would help you feel better," Sherlock explains.

Without missing a beat, you retort, "You undressed me." His hand stops pouring the tea and sets the teapot down. Ignoring your statement, he puts lemon and honey in your cup.

"If that is all you need of me, I will be downstairs working," Sherlock states. Before leaving, he hands you a book and wraps your neck in a scarf. "The book for entertainment. The scarf in case you get a chill." You don't have enough time to thank him when he shuts the door as he leaves. You admire the scarf, his blue scarf that he practically wears all the time. It even smells of him. You examine the book he gives you. "Tolkien," you whisper to yourself as you open the book. You get comfortable and feel content at how much care Sherlock has put into making sure you're okay. Although your face is flushed from being ill, you still feel some sort of warmth from imagining Sherlock prepare all this for you. Just when you have started reading the first page of the book, Sherlock pops in, places a bell on your nightstand and says, "Get well soon."


End file.
